Siblings, Scotch and Schemes
by SimonWi
Summary: Miles Mayhem has plans to ensure V.E.N.O.M. as an ongoing concern under the guise of a racing team, but it will require a couple of drinks with - and help from - his brother Maximus...


Miles Mayhem followed the maitre d' into the main dining area of the restaurant. He was not an easy man to impress, but even he had to admit that this place was one of the finer places he had ever been to. The décor was a mass of fine artwork on walls and crystal chandeliers on the ceiling. The tables were all covered in what Miles could only guess was fine silk, and the plates, glasses and cutlery were the best available. The diners were dressed in in suits, gowns and other finery, while the staff were immaculately pressed and standing straight in their uniforms. Miles realised that his brother was doing very well for himself, which didn't improve the bad mood he had been in the last couple of weeks. A sharp cough from the maitre d' shook Miles from his thoughts from the real world. Maximus Mayhem sat on one side, dressed in a grey suit and cravat, cleaning his monocle with one of the napkins. Miles rolled his eyes as the maitre d' motioned to the empty chair opposite Maximus.

"Sir, your lunch guest," the maitre d' said.

"Miles," said Maximus. "Sit down, sit down. Charles, two glasses of you finest scotch on the rocks."

Charles the maitre d' nodded and left. Miles sat down.

"Hello Maxie," he said. "How are you?"

Maximus motioned to his surroundings. "I can hardly complain now Miles, can I?"

"The banking world still treating you well then?"

"It's a virtual treasure trove here Miles. All these bankers talking about their mistresses, their little deals on the side… blackmail has never been so easy."

Charles returned with a tray in his hand, two tumblers of scotch resting on it. He placed them on the table, nodded and moved away. Maximus waited until he was satisfied Charles was out of earshot.

"Speaking of money Miles, how are you doing? I can't say I've received any revenue from your line of work to clean and hide abroad for you."

Miles stared into his scotch. "It's going good Maxie. Absolutely fine."

Maximus' eyes narrowed. "Miles, if you can't tell me the truth who can you tell? I'm your brother. The only difference is I'm a little more refined."

Miles almost spit his mouthful of scotch back into his glass. "What did you just say Maxie?" he finally managed to say.

"It's not something to be ashamed of Miles," said Maximus. It's just how it is."

"Maxi, just because you wear a monocle does not make you more refined than me."

"Miles, look at your suit. You thought that royal blue with yellow trim was a good colour to wear."

Miles was about to yell, but remembered why he was there. He downed his scotch in one gulp and motioned to a waitress for another.

"All right Maxie. Things aren't going too well," he admitted. "There's this team called M.A.S.K. who always ruin everything. Always at the last minute, they cause my plans to go up in smoke."

"And what plans are those Miles?" asked Maximus. He took a sip of his scotch. "Please tell."

Miles tapped his new glass of scotch as he remembered his many plans. "The last mission was to find King Ludwig's treasure in Switzerland. We managed to steal the doors off the Orient Express and I was so close Maxi, but M.A.S.K. showed up. I could have got that treasure. I could have been rich."

"The treasure turned out to be a train set Miles."

Mayhem looked up. "What?"

"It said in the newspapers. An exact replica of the Orient Express. It's going in some museum."

Miles groaned and drank more of his scotch.

Maximus shook his head. "Miles, it sounds like this M.A.S.K. are able to find you because you're the only person that follows old legends and comes up with these out there ideas. I mean stealing the Statue of Liberty is one thing, but trying to dry out Acapulco with some machine? That's sound like something you would see in a Saturday morning cartoon. Haven't I always said taking a low-reward, but low-risk stance with a plan isn't a sign of weakness?"

Miles took another sip of his scotch. He needed it to steady his nerves at what he was going to say. "I been thinking you have a point there Maxie," he said with gritted teeth. " And I've been thinking of a way to minimise the risks." Miles opened his briefcase and pulled out a folder of papers. He passed them to Maximus, who studied them.

"The World Racing Circuit?" he asked.

"I'm going to register V.E.N.O.M. as a racing team," said Miles. "It will allow us to travel the world, hiding our black market deals in plain sight."

"But what about the people you did make black market deals with?"

"We managed to stay anonymous for the most part Maxie. Very few people have seen our faces" said Miles. Those who have are mainly in jail, completely discredited with the authorities. Nothing to worry about."

"And M.A.S.K.?" asked Maximus.

"They do know who we are, and we don't know who they are yet," said Miles. "But all we need is to register with the local bodies in each country to ensure immunity. M.A.S.K. try and stop us, they cause an international incident and we're home free. The only way they can stop is to join the circuit themselves, which means we will know their identities. It's easier to cheat when you see the playing field clearly."

Maximus nodded. "And where do I come in?"

"I'm sure you know people who work for those bodies from hanging around here," said Miles. "Perhaps a few choice words in their ear about some of their other 'interests' will make sure that the paperwork is all approved with no problems."

Maximus was silent for a moment. "And?"

"And what?" asked Miles.

"There's a little post-script to add there, isn't there Miles?"

Miles sighed. "Well, our last few… results have meant our accounts are a little dry, and to pay the necessary expenses to actually register with the circuit organisers may be a stretch."

"And you can't forge the actual application because if you're caught out, your whole cover will be null and void and everyone knows who you are. Straight to jail without passing Go." said Maximus. He smiled. "So you need my money and my expertise, Miles."

Miles sighed again. "Yes Maxi," he said, making a mental note to someday, somehow, get back at his brother for enjoying the moment a little too much. "Yes, I need your money and your expertise."

Maximus sipped his drink. "Well, I'm sure I can help Miles. I've been looking to get out of the banking business." He looked around before leaning forwards over the table and lowering his voice. "Between you and me, I think some of these fellow diners don't want me here anyway. They look at me like they don't trust me."

Miles stared at his identical twin. "And you have such an honest face."

"Well, it's always good to get out while the going's good," said Maximus. I'm willing to invest, but this money comes with me as a package Miles. I want to be an active member of this team of yours."

Miles pointed his finger at Maximus. "As long as you remember it is still MY team Maxie. What I say goes."

"All right Miles. All right. So how many people are on your team?"

"Including me, we have six active," replied Miles. "One's keeps vanishing with this antiques dealer I know, but he was an idiot so it's no great loss. I've arranged a replacement in an ATV rider Bruno and Malloy know."

"So six, plus us equals eight," said Maximus. "The races will have prize money, and I'm sure you're planning ways have ways of… supplementing that income. And how will it be split?"

"It will all be split equally Maxie," said Mayhem. "It'll just be spilt equally in our favour."

"Maximus nodded. "And of that share, I propose - being it is me that is making the initial investment - that it goes 60-40 in my favour."

"No chance Maxi. Fifty-fifty."

"Fifty-five to 45."

"Fifty-fifty."

"How about 57-43?"

Miles looked over at his brother and smiled. There was no way his brother was getting one over on him twice on the same day

"Fifty-fifty," he said. "And I don't smash up you monocle collection."

Maximus rose his hand to the wire frame surrounding his eye. "You wouldn't do that to them Miles! Would you?"

"Oh Maxie. I thought you knew me."

Maximus pondered the deal. To Miles' glee, he sighed. "Even when we were kids it was your way or the highway Miles. Fifty-fifty."

Maximus offered his hand. Miles took it and the brothers shook on the deal.

"So when's the first race?" asked Maximus.

"Three months," said Miles. "Gives us time for you to get the paperwork filled, and for us to upgrade and repair our vehicles. I also have an idea for a brand new racing car. It could be our vehicle Maxie."

"That would be something Miles, it really would." Maximus raised his scotch glass. "A toast Miles. To new beginnings, and success in the new family business."

Miles smiled and clinked his own glass against Maximus'. The two brothers finished their drinks, already thinking about how to make the new family business a success.


End file.
